The collision
by vandaluzija
Summary: What happens when two worlds collide? How would you feel if you learned that your whole life is nothing but a mere lie? And that, inspite of your good intentions, nothing turned out not the way you wanted? Will your past ever going to stop haunting you?
1. Prologue & Past sins, present lies

Prologue  
  
  
  
  
  
I should start from the beginning. But, when did this all started I do not know. How do you start a story that tells of you family's turmoil? How can you know for sure what really was the beginning of it all? Maybe it was a punishment for a sin long ago committed and forgotten. Maybe a destiny, but I don't believe in such things. Better said, I do not wish to believe that I'm not in control over my life. But can I honestly say that I did control the events that followed the rise of the Dark Lord? Am I just fooling myself to feel better, to not feel responsible for my weakness that, I trust, have caused all this pain. I should have been wiser, I should have known better, should have seen it all coming. But I failed. I, who above all cherished knowledge, intellect and logic fell into a trap like a foolish girl thinking I can't be outwitted, so sure that I've passed all the obstacles in my way and avoided all snares. I failed to protect a child I've sworn to always love and care for. I failed not one, but two men I've loved. I was defeated at my own game. I, Minerva McGonagall, named after the Greek goddess of wisdom, one of the most praised minds of today's wizarding world, successfully transfigurated myself into a foolish butterfly flying around the candle totally unaware of the danger. I failed, and I will regret my foolishness for as long I shall live.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter #1; Past sins, present lies  
  
  
  
  
  
"Minnie, please don't go." ten year old boy pleadingly yelled through tears after a tall girl. She instantly turned and smiled warmly at the boy.  
  
"Leo, I have to go. You know that." she reached for the boy's face and tenderly dried his tears.  
  
"But why..", cried the boy again, "why can't you pause this year so we could go to Hogwarts next year together?"  
  
She was almost crying now, too. But she resisted the urge to cry and gave the boy her soon-to-be-famous stern look; "We discussed this ten times already!" She never allowed herself to cry in front of him, she haven't cried since their mother died ten years ago bringing her brother to this world. He was crying desperately then like he already knew about dark shadows that are waiting for him on his path. His cry pierced her heart then like it did now but, as always, she knew her part and played it well.  
  
"Merlin, give me strength for both of us!" a quick thought crossed her mind. "If I stay with you now then next year one of us cannot go to Hogwarts. The money our father has left us is running pretty low, dear. I must go now and finish my education so I can get a job and start to pay off our debts. And besides, I am the Head Girl, I have a numerous other responsibilities as well."  
  
"Other responsibilities that are more important than me?" whined the boy quietly lowering his head in defeat.  
  
Swallowing hard she tried to force down the lump in her throat, unsuccessfully. "Nothing is more important to me than you, did you hear me!" again she cradled his small face in her hands. "Nothing, don't you ever forget that. I am doing this for you, and for you alone. Now, be good to Mrs Gibbs and I promise I'll write to you every single day." The Hogwarts Express was starting to leave so she kissed her brother quickly on the forehead and jumped on the leaving train. Through the window in her prefect's compartment she could see her little brother trying to wrestle himself out of Mrs Gibbs' arm and run after the train. She waved him until he became nothing more than a small black spot in the distance.  
  
  
  
  
  
Only then, in the loneliness of her compartment, did she allow her thoughts to wander a little before she would take over her duties. She saw only her own face in the window now. With her big, beady eyes and long hair neatly placed in braids she looked almost like a worryless child. But a child she wasn't. In fact, she could hardly remember was she ever a child. At the age of seven her newly born brother and she became orphans. True, their father was still alive, but only just. It took him another ten years to die of his own hand but he was dead long ago before that. He died with his wife, on the night her brother was born and none of his two children were enough to pull him out of the abyss of his despair.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sudden fierce hatred filled her hearth and she clenched her hands into tight fists. "Damn you, Father! I hope you're rotting in Hell for what you did to Leo, for what you did to ME!" she hissed at her own reflection. "And damn you a hundred times more for giving me your appearance so I have to remember your cowardice every time I look into the mirror." She abruptly turned her head from the window not to look at herself any more. She hated being desperate, hated being out of control and hated the responsibility she was forced to take so early in her life. And, above all, she hated herself for letting her father's mistakes hurt her so badly.  
  
  
  
  
  
A quiet sob tried to escape her lips but she pressed them tightly together. The McGonagall women were always strong and she was determined she would live up to that reputation.  
  
  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
  
"Funny how this old memories come back uninvited to haunt you when you least expect them to." Professor Minerva McGonagall mentally shook herself out of this pointless reverie and returned her attention to the meeting she had with the inner circle of newly found Order of the Phoenix.  
  
"Three desperate people in the most desperate time of all", treacherous little voice whispered from the back of her mind. "What difference can we make?"  
  
  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
That evening was a nightmare. No, worse than a mere nightmare. After all, a nightmare is nothing more than a product of a disturbed mind, but this...this was true. A reality at its worst.  
  
  
  
  
  
As soon as Severus Snape apparated in the dungeons of the Malfoys Manor he realised how huge was the mistake to come here. It was a suicide. "And a rather painful one, I can expect", he could not suppress his famous sarcasm. "Severus, if you're ready...if you're prepared..", echoed Dumbledore's voice in his head. And the echo of his own voice returned, "Yes, headmaster."  
  
"Hell yes. I'm not prepared, not for this I'm not!", desperate voice he could barely recognise as his own retorted before he could do anything to stop it. "Minerva was against this whole plan right from the start. She needn't to say so out loud, it was plastered all over her face." But Headmaster and he himself had won the argument. He was always good in that, persuading other people to do what he wanted them to do.  
  
"Well this is what I bargained for, is it not? The redemption at last although I'm not going to stick around to whiteness it." he thought bitterly as he watched Lucius Malfoy, wearing his usual trademark sneer, approach him across the room.  
  
"Oi, Sevvie, old chap! Just in time. You've missed the party last time and, I must say, our Lord wasn't pleased. No, he wasn't pleased at all!" he grinned evilly at Severus who didn't do as much as blink at very poorly hidden threat.  
  
"I'll do the explaining when and if the Dark Lord arrives. He didn't actually made YOU his deputy so you'll excuse me for not giving apologies for my absence to you." Severus responded with silky voice, his most dangerous one.  
  
"Well, while you're waiting in anticipation may I offer you something that'll, I'm sure, ease your worries a little bit?", Lucius asked, false servility in his voice. "An entertainment, a small gift from our Lord. Unfortunately, you will have to share it with our loyal followers as well...ah, yes, here it is!" he gestured triumphally toward the two hooded Death Eaters carrying a young woman. It was hard to tell even what her normal hair colour was and how did she look like was impossible even to presume. Her naked body was covered in bruises and blood, her hair a wild tangle plastered over her face and half closed eyes. She was bleeding from many wounds, shivering violently, still alive but only just.  
  
"Well...What do you say?"Lucius exclamated happily and strode off to the girl. He, then, grabbed her by the hair, violently yanked her head up and forced her to look him in the eyes. And her eyes...Severus barely suppressed a shiver and tried hardly not to show his horror as Lucius continued like he was chatting about foul weather. Looking into her eyes was like looking into endless pools of despair and pain, the same expression he saw in the mirror every morning. Her eyes pleaded for mercy, pleaded for death to come and put an end to her suffering.  
  
  
  
  
  
As he looked into her eyes he was able to catch only little peaces of what Lucius was saying.  
  
"...Minerva and Dumbledore...", hearing this two names had the effect of icy cold water on his troubled mind.  
  
"What did you say, Lucius?" he spat acidly while sickening feeling he felt from the moment the girl was brought intensed. This was a test, if he was never sure about anything in his life, he was sure about that.  
  
"I was saying", responded Lucius slowly like he was explaining that two and two made four to a dumb child, "that this piece of filth", there he stopped to spit in the girl's face like he could disgrace her even more, "that this pitiful excuse of a witch is our Lords very special gift to that old Muggle- loving goat Dumbledore and his slut of a deputy Minerva. Can you imagine...Minerva's own daughter, the last descendant of once pure and proud McGonagall family, raised as a filthy Muggle! Maybe He would allow us to deliver her in peaces, I would like that. That would show that bastard...".  
  
"Enough!" Snape interrupted, not being able to bear maniacal glitter in Lucius' eyes. "You're a fool, Malfoy! Minerva has no children. And if she had any, she would definitely raise them to be wizards. Even a Gryffindor, as much I despise them, wouldn't be so stupid to leave his child defenceless." But a sickening feeling prevented him to believe in his own words. For a second he saw Lucius' confidence shake a little bit.  
  
"Be that as it may, the Dark Lord specifically asked for this girl. Now, do you intent to use your turn with the girl or...maybe, you're not what you pretend to be."  
  
"I never cared for the petty, idiotic activities of yours that you call entertainment", acid poured from Snape's mouth but his eyes never left hers. "Do with her as you please, kill her if that'll make you happy or mate with her", his lips curled at last three words, "I couldn't care less, just don't force me to enjoy it too long", he finished still not leaving her eyes, now filled not just with terror but with hatred as well. He concentrated on hatred, it was familiar ground, he's seen it oh-so-many times, first in the eyes of his own victims and later in the eyes of his students. Very slowly, he returned his gaze at Lucius who turned and busied himself with the girl.  
  
  
  
  
  
Idle expression Severus' face, as he watched Lucius exhibit his perversities, couldn't be further than the storm that raged in his head. "It can't be...Minerva never...she wouldn't keep it a secret, surely...", his mind raced like a wild stallion. Incoherent thoughts raced through his mind, and then, all of the sudden, formed one, crystalline pure thought, "I need to get her out, now."  
  
  
  
  
  
Later on, he would try hardly to explain as well to the others as he would try to himself, what caused this decision. Was this death the drop that made his cup overflow? What did one more death mean to a man who has seen hundreds more horrible deaths, many innocent people die, many women tortured and raped, whole families slaughtered? What could one death among so many others mean to him? What was so special about this particular woman that forced him to jeopardise his role as a spy? Maybe it was a sudden realisation that his masks fell off revealing him as a turncoat, as a traitor. Maybe it was an intense sickening feeling he got after hearing about her purpose as "a gift". Or maybe it was the abyss of desperation and resignation he saw in her eyes, the expression he knew too well.  
  
  
  
  
  
What ever it was, the moments that followed became clouded, like he was walking through a very thick mist only he could see. Next thing he knew, Severus found himself next to Lucius with his wand pointed at him. A second later he landed on the edge of the Forbidden Forest clutching the limp body of Voldemort's monstrous gift. Hogwarts, his shelter, the only home he knew where too soon his worst fears would be confirmed. 


	2. What lies beneath

Chapter #2; What lies beneath Everything we've ever stolen has been lost, returned or broken, no more dragons left to slay. Every mistake I've ever made has been rehearsed and then replayed as I got lost along the way.  
  
How long he sat there, her wounded limp body in his arms, he did not know. It could have been mere seconds but they seemed to him like hours, during which he repeated over and over one single thought: "Why?" After what seemed like an eternity, he became aware of something, of someone pulling the girl's body away from him. He tightened his grip, and then his hearing ability returned in an explosion of voices: worried, screaming voices, voices he couldn't stand to hear, yet he was glad to hear at the same time.  
  
"Let her go, Professor. Let her go." Severus opened his eyes to see Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, trying to free the girl from his grip.  
  
"Let her go, Severus. Hagrid will take her to the hospital wing." He felt, rather than saw the headmaster's concerned look. Then, and only then, did he realise what he had done. He retched and vomited on the grass, sweat dripping from his face.  
  
"That's it, Albus!" He heard Minerva's voice, shrill with anger he knew was not directed at him or at the Death Eaters, but at herself for simply allowing him to go into the lion's den in the first place. "He's not going there anymore. He's not! I don't care what you say, Severus, we'll simply have to find another way."  
  
"That will be entirely unnecessary, Minerva." His voice was a little bit too rough and wary. "All masks are down, they know I'm not with them anymore." Severus took Dumbledore's offered hand and got up gingerly.  
  
"We'll talk in my office, after spirits have cooled down a bit," the headmaster said kindly.  
  
"I'll join you when I get back from the hospital wing. Poppy will need all the hands she can get with the poor girl." Minerva turned on her heel and strode off as soon Dumbledore had nodded. * * * Upon reaching his office, Dumbledore ushered Snape in, poured him a full glass of Ogden's Firewhiskey and sat behind his desk.  
  
"Now, tell me what happened." His expression was sober and worried. Snape swallowed the whiskey in one gulp and clenched his trembling hands together.  
  
"They knew...I mean, the majority of the Death Eaters suspected my loyalty to the Dark Lord. We expected them to, but something in Lucius' expression...made me think that he knew what the Dark Lord's plans for me were, and that they weren't very pleasant." His voice was harsh and bitter, and his stammering gave away the despair he felt. "I'm no use now, not as a Death Eater, not as a honourable person, not even as a spy," he thought bitterly.  
  
As though he could read his mind, Dumbledore put his hand on Snape's. "There's nothing to be desperate about, Severus. I trust you had a reason to do what you did."  
  
"You trust me too much. I jeopardised our whole cause, endangered our plans, and for what? Because I'm weak! A coward! Like a snake, my House emblem, I took the first opportunity available to crawl under a rock!" He abruptly jumped on his feet, knocking the chair over, and turned his back on the headmaster. Dumbledore hastily followed and put a sympathetic hand on younger man's shoulder, but he remained silent. He knew better than interrupt Snape when he was in this state of mind, resentful and angry at himself.  
  
"What could one more death mean to a Death Eater? One death compared to..." he trailed off.  
  
"You're not a Death Eater, Severus. Not anymore," Dumbledore said quietly, and his tone made clear that he would not accept opposite opinions. "I know you don't won't to hear about it, but you paid off your sins long before this. Please, sit down."  
  
Severus took the offered chair still avoiding the headmaster's eyes. "Now", Dumbledore continued, "what about the girl? How does she fit into Voldemort's plans? Or is she just another innocent victim that was in the wrong place at the wrong time?"  
  
"I thought so, at first. True, Malfoy mentioned something about her being a gift, but I wasn't paying much attention, as he likes to exaggerate. But then...I...he told me that she was supposed to be a gift for you and Minerva." Dumbledore's brows furrowed. "He said that she is Minerva's daughter...but Minerva...she hasn't... oh Merlin, please tell me this isn't true." Snape looked pleadingly at Dumbledore's eyes, hoping against hope that the headmaster would reassure him, tell him that such a thing was impossible.  
  
However, Dumbledore's expression rapidly changed from bad to worse, from worry to ultimate horror. He clasped his hands to his mouth and muttered "Dear God, no..." He was interrupted by the door opening with a bang that echoed through the room. There, at the threshold, stood Minerva McGonagall, paper white, lips pressed in a thin line, clutching something in her hand. Never in his entire time in Hogwarts had Snape seen her this horrified. She staggered a few steps, reached Snape and gripped his arm with violence he would never have expected from her.  
  
"What did they do?" she yelled, now crimson faced and shaking. "Tell me! What did the bastards do to her?"  
  
"Minerva!" Dumbledore separated her from Snape, and again she was paper white, looking twenty years older. Her feet buckled, and she fell to the floor, tears pouring like a flood threatening to drown them all. Snape quickly summoned the strongest Calming Potion he had at the moment, hoping that it would be enough to ease the hysteria and erratic sobs he could hear from the other side of the room.  
  
"I need to know, Albus. I must know! Oh, my God, what did I do? What did I do?" Dumbledore held her in his arms like a small child while Severus forced her to drink the potion. Soon her sobs quieted and Minerva got a hold on herself. Seeing her face when she got up made Snape instantly wish he had died with the girl in that dungeon. Minerva's face showed a wariness, guilt and despair Severus had thought only he could feel.  
  
Still standing by her side, Dumbledore was the first to break the silence, "There's no way you could be sure that that girl is..." He was cut of by a voice that didn't resemble Minerva's usual confident one at all. It was a sarcastic and bitter voice, like his own, Severus thought.  
  
"I'm not sure. I don't need to be, Albus! There's no mistake. Here" She opened her hand to reveal a silver chain with a medallion. The medallion had a Sphinx engraved on it, the emblem of the Animagi dating from the Middle Ages. And, Snape realised with horror, the Sphinx could be found on McGonagall's crest too. The same Sphinx was on Minerva's ring; he'd seen it a thousand times, so there was no way he could've mistaken it. His gaze wandered from Dumbledore to Minerva, terrified at what he saw there.  
  
Minerva held her face in her hands, and when she raised her head her eyes were empty and her voice hollow. "I owe you an explanation, Severus. It was never my intention to keep this a secret, but the has never before been a reason for me to talk about this."  
  
"Minerva, this may not be an appropriate time.you're still in shock..." Dumbledore cautioned.  
  
"This time is as good as any!" she insisted. "And you thought you had a shameful secrets, Severus. You think you have a reason to poison yourself with grief!" Minerva looked away. "Once you told me I should have a child of my own," she started. Severus remembered the occasion quite vividly.  
  
"Minerva, get a child of your own!" Severus snapped. "And stop treating me like I'm one." The moment these words left his lips, he regretted them, but it was too late to take them back. He had just retreated from another Death Eaters meeting, and, as always after such events he wasn't inclined to listen Minerva's grumping or to see her worried face. Volatile tempered as he was, this remark definitely didn't fit into the category of the most insulting things he had ever said to her, but, as she turned away he instinctively knew that this remark had wounded her much more deeply than he would have expected it to. "I had a child I loved as my own once," she retorted quietly, "but she's lost to me, and to the whole wizarding world." He wanted to apologise, an act he rarely did, but she raised her hand to stop him and left without another word.  
  
"And, as I told you, I can only hope not to see the child ever again. Because, I knew that occasion wouldn't be a nice one. And it's not." Minerva laughed but the sound died in her throat. "Yes, I had a child once. Not mine, but nevertheless I loved it like it was mine. A girl, who I named and raised, just as I raised her father, my brother. Our mother died in childbirth, and my father died with her. Technically, he was still alive, but he gave up. He was a coward; it was so easy to pass the burden to a seven year-old child, namely me. But, as always, I knew what my duty was. McGonagall women are known for their strength, and I took over the responsibility to raise Leonidas. We were so close, Leo and I, although I was seven years older. Leonidas was my brother and my son at the same time. Right after I graduated from Hogwarts, Albus gave me a much-needed job as his assistant. No one could've been happier than me, because this meant I could be with my brother throughout his education, as he was just about to start his first year. Maybe I allowed him too much. He was my weak point and he knew how to use it; maybe this is just another mistake of mine. Regardless, I didn't object when he, after graduation, announced that he was joining the Ministry forces to become an Auror. Soon he became Alastor Moody's much-praised protégé. The Gryffindor in me was so proud.I was a fool," she sighed. "Leonidas was very brave, and always so optimistic, but he risked too much. Then, tragedy struck. The Dark Lord rose and started to gain followers, and the time of terror began. During a time when people were afraid to make friends, terrified of facing the loss that would most certainly follow, Leonidas got married. I remember him telling me, 'This time is as good as any, Minnie. Don't worry, I'll protect my home well.' But not as well as he thought. He used the Fidelius Charm, and with that put his wife and unborn child in the hands of a traitor. One night the Death Eaters paid a visit to his home and find his pregnant wife alone. Leonidas was on one of his many missions. Skylar knew nothing; he never talked about his job to her, but did this ever stop the Death Eaters from wreaking havoc? He returned just when they were about to leave, just in time to see that his own partner, the person he trusted with his life, had betrayed him. Skylar was badly injured, the mediwizards were helpless with such injuries, but they managed to save their unborn child, my niece, the one who is now lying in the hospital wing. Leonidas appeared at my door in the middle of the night, holding the baby. It's true, history does repeat itself; just as Leo and I weren't enough to pull our father from the abyss of despair, his daughter wasn't enough to ease Leonidas' pain and disappointment in the wizarding world. He wanted revenge, and it took him four years to find and kill all the Death Eaters involved in the murder. During four long years, not once did he visit his child, nor sent me word that he was still alive. Or sane. People begun saying that he had became as bad as the ones he fought, cruel, using the Unforgivables. Even Alastor Moody himself thought of him as "Mad Leonidas". Then, one night four years later, all of a sudden, Leonidas appeared at my door looking as if he had passed through fire and storm."  
  
"Leo, you're alive!" a younger Minerva cried. Then the pure joy on her face was suddenly replaced with anger. "Where have you been all this years? Not once did you visit..." "Its over, Minnie. I've avenged my wife and come for my daughter." He spoke like a very tired man, tired of living and suffering. "Your daughter? You haven't been around enough even to name her, Leonidas." "Old debts had to be paid!" he cut her off. "Now, give me the child. There's a long way ahead of us." "Long way? What do you mean, Leo? Where are you taking her?" Anxiety filled her heart as she watched her brother, this stranger, reach into his pocket and pull his wand out. It was snapped in two. He threw the pieces at her feet. "Away from all this, away from the world that made her an orphan even before she was born." "You're not serious, you cannot mean..." Minerva's voice trembled. "Far away, if I could leave the Earth I would've done so. The farthest point is still too close to this twisted world." Finally he lost his temper. "I'm taking her away from this. I don't want her to be a witch. I don't want her to know..." "Don't want her to be a witch! Leonidas, spend the rest of your life as a Muggle if you wish, but don't deny your daughter her inheritance. The McGonagalls never..." "I'm sick of this pure blood, proud to be a wizard nonsense. It was the wizards that did this to her, to me, Minerva!" "So, you're running away just like our father did, are you? And who you might hurt in the process doesn't mean anything to you." She barely stopped herself from yelling. "I'm saving her life. What future could she hope to have here?" "No, Leo, you're endangering her life. Barring her from a magical education, from her past, will leave her defenceless. I won't allow it." He moved forward, but she pulled her wand at him. "Step back, Leonidas. Don't make me use it against my own brother." He moved away and left, casting a last glance at the tall figure of his sister. "I don't have a sister anymore, but I will have my daughter."  
  
"After that I went to court, and won easily enough. I had a job, was a respected member of the community while Leonidas was considered insane. No one would trust him with a child, not even his own. I was so relieved. Given time, I thought, Leonidas would come to his senses. I knew I was wrong when he spoke to me, saying, 'You've won the battle, Minerva, but I will win this war of yours.' True to his words, he kidnapped Persephone that very same night in spite of all my efforts to protect her, and vanished without a trace. The years he spent as an Auror enabled him to hide from both the wizard and Muggle detectives I hired. I hadn't seen my niece since. Until now." 


	3. Distant voices, still lives

Disclaimer; As usual nothing belongs to me except Skylar, and no money is being made. Also, I forgot to mention earlier; the quotes from the beginning of chapter#2 and #3 are from a song- "Road to Mandalay" by R. Williams.  
  
A/N; Reviews and constructive criticism are most welcome.  
  
Chapter #3; Distant voices, still lives  
  
This sombre song would drain the Sun  
  
But it won't shine until it's sung No water running in the streams The saddest place we've ever seen.  
  
Sunshine poured through open windows on a mild late-summer morning. Soft, warm breeze played with curtains, bringing the scent of flowers in the infirmary room. Outside, the birds sang their love song interrupted only by a soft buzzing of insects. Just a single glance on the tranquillity of the outside fields could make a smile appear on the grimmest face. However, none of the two women in the room seemed to notice the beauty and peacefulness of the morning, although one had her gaze riveted on the outside grounds. The other, occupying the chair near the bed where younger one was lying, seemed intensely interested in a particular point on the opposite wall. Only the slight unfocusness of her eyes and the thin line of her lips betrayed the inner turmoil. Uncomfortable silence cloaked both women in a dark gloom diminishing the glow of golden sunshine. Even the merry birdsong seemed sombre in this room.  
  
«And that's how it's been for the last three weeks.»Minerva thought with exasperation, not allowing herself to feel despair that was skulking only two paces behind exasperation and would absorb her if she put her defences down even in the slightest bit. «From the moment she learned the truth of her past and.possible future if she ever choose to come out of bed», her lips thinned a bit more. «Or when I decide to end this charade, make us both a favour and not return until asked.» She moved her gaze from the wall, brushed it slightly against unmoving figure on the bed and set it on her clenched hands in her lap. «But how could I? I, who failed her so many times, how could I leave? How could I betray her yet once more?» She casted one more quick glance in girl's direction, on her eyes devoid of any feeling, any life, just.dead. «Oh, I would give anything asked just for a single spark of a spirit that resided beneath those hollow pools, be it even a glint of.fear. Be it even that, anything but this emptiness.»  
  
The fear that replaced the puzzlement after she opened her eyes for the first time after a potion induced sleep that was given to her so her body could heal. For the soul, there was no cure beside the Time. Minerva suppressed a bitter laugh. «Like the time has even eased mine.» From the moment Poppy entered that room everything went terribly wrong. If girl's memory of preceding events had been somewhat blurred by the potion and weakness, it was all revived when Madame Pomfrey drove out her wand to examine her. With a shriek of a wounded animal and a strength no one could posses after such injuries, the girl bolted out of bed and ran toward the infirmary door. Halfway her feet couldn't hold her for longer, her knees buckled and she fell on the cobblestone, opening anew the cuts and lacerations. But the adrenaline surge prevented her from fainting, giving her the strenght to continue crawling towards the door in a vain hope of a rescue. Finally, overcoming the numbness her unexpected jump caused, Dumbledore, Poppy and Minerva managed to stop the hysteric girl and force a calming potion down her throat.  
  
Next time they had to stripe with magical bonds to prevent her from harming herself again and to make her listen. At first she refused to believe any of what Dumbledore was saying, but, after she was presented with evidence of magic's existence, and an explanation provided half by Minerva and half by Dumbledore, incredulity and fear gave way to despair, than to anger and hate to be finally replaced by emptiness and silence. And silent she remained to this day, not a single word or sob escaped her lips after they finished, not a single tear rolled down her cheeks. A stone gargoyle couldn't be more impassive. At least it moved when you said the right words.  
  
After a time Minerva rose from her seat, collected untouched meal from the nightstand and silently left the room. Other duties awaited her and offered a welcome distraction from this room and all of the unspoken accusations that hung in the silence. Not a single twitch disturbed the girl's features, as if she was carved out of stone and unaware of other's presence.  
  
* * *  
  
«Nothing.I have nothing left.nothing..nothing.», like a litany these words kept pounding in Skylar's head followed and amplified by pictures of the most horrible day in her life. Not the day when she came home from the lab and found her father bloodied and tied by invisible bonds, not even the moment when hooded wizards killed him after they tortured her in front of his eyes. Not those long two days when these same sadists held her and made her go through myriad of tortures. No, she banished them from her thoughts, locked them behind thick mental doors and built a wall of oblivion in front of it. If the Death Eaters took her innocence, then her so-called-rescuers stripped her bare of any joy, any hope of ever being able to gather shattered peaces and debris of her life.  
  
She remembered everything up to tiniest detail as it was repeated over and over in her head, every word, every gesture like a giant broom sweeping away her life and identity. Even that. She was a prisoner in an invisible confinement of her past. That much was obvious from the moment she opened her eyes for the second time unable to move even a single muscle although there were no visible bounds. Beleaguered, trapped by some peculiarly dressed strangers with deceivingly compassionate faces ready to take what little had remained of her life.  
  
«What do you want from me?» she asked then with a futile attempt to prevent quivering of her voice. «Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?!» She strained so hard not to cry, she will not give this people the satisfaction of seeing her defeated. With dismay she felt defying tears wetting her cheeks.  
  
«Persephone.» the silent words startled her.  
  
«What? That's not my name! This is a mistake, you have the wrong person!» She opened her mouth to say so but was abruptly hindered as she found herself face to face with the speaker. It was like looking into a scrying mirror, into an older herself. With different hair colour, fine lines around the eyes and more angular face shape she would've never noticed any resemblance were it not for one thing, were it not for the mesmerising stare of the woman's eyes.  
  
Skylar had never seen her mother who died at childbirth, her father discarded all of her pictures when she died, avoiding any question Skylar would ask about her. After a while she stopped asking them, it didn't do any good hurting herself and her father with the topic that was obviously too painful for him. But she hasn't banished her from her thoughts, although, as she got older, her attempts in finding anything hers in the mirror noticeably lessened. After all, there was nothing to be found, Skylar was the perfect picture of her father, from gaunt figure to light brown hair, everything almost the perfect copy except for the eyes. The only feature she'd always presumed she inherited from her mother. And now the same eyes, beady and of strange, pale colour of clear, mountain spring returned her gaze.  
  
«I'm afraid there's no mistake», as if she could read her mind the woman spoke and shook Skylar out of her reverie. Then more words followed, unvarnished words that inexorably teared the fine fabric of lies that made the tapestry of her life. And no matter how much evidence she was presented with, no matter how everything fitted perfectly in the gaps her father's lies left, her brain could not, would not accept it. She was a scientist, for God's sake! Twenty-six years of learning that something can't simply vanish or appear out of nothing couldn't be easily erased. And now this people tried to persuade her to something she simply knew was preposterous. A child's fantasy coming to life. Yet, it was there, magic really existed and with it a whole secret community of people that called themselves wizards and witches. In any other occasion a scientist in her would've been intrigued. But how could it be now, when she learned that she was also a part of it, a part of this strange world, the same kind as the people that murdered her mother before she was even born, forced her father in lifelong exile and, as if this wasn't enough, tortured and killed him twenty six years after. But even this wasn't the worst thing.  
  
«If this wasn't my life we're talking about I could laugh at the irony of it!» So many years spent in hiding from something that nevertheless happened. In the end her father's exile accomplished nothing, just bought them some time, postponing the inevitable. «It would be better we both died that night along with my mother.»  
  
«What next?» Skylar asked, breaking the silence that ensued her aunt's confession. «How long do you tend to keep me here?» Even after all of the revelations there was still hope, however tiny it was, lingering in Skylar's soul that she may yet find a strength to forget, to recuperate her strengths and go on with her life. But that too was shattered as Minerva and old man, which was headmaster of this «school» exchanged worried glances.  
  
«What?» she barely recognised the shrill cry as her voice. The old man, Dumbledore, approached her and took her palm gently between his own. His touch was warm and startling blue eyes that held her own filled with compassion.  
  
«It's not that simple.», he begun slowly, at which point Skylar's nerves were as taut as harp's strings. «You see, this is a delicate situation. The Ministry of Magic is still refusing to acknowledge the new rise of Voldemort. The number of his followers, both old and new ones, is rising as we speak, and so are numbers of hideous crimes committed by them. And yet, the Ministry is closing eyes on all evidence of increased Death Eater activity, assigning them as random attacks of madmen. They consider the very idea of Voldemort acquiring a new body and all of his power preposterous. On the other hand, they did recognise the attack on you and your father as one being committed by a member of the Wizarding community. And they don't want questions being asked both by wizarding and muggle community. You see, as far as from Middle Ages, the very existence of the Wizarding world is being kept as a secret, and a secret is the way they want it to remain. They sent a special unit of Aurors to your house, who cleared up the wreckage and casted a special charm on the neighbours, Obliviate, to make them forget what they saw. They haven't found out your father's true identity or anything about your existence. For them, the matter is closed now, and we intend to keep it that way. As long no one knows who or where you are you're safe.»  
  
«But, surely, after some time it would be safe for me to return home, wouldn't it?», it was almost a plea. «But..but I have my research, friends.they would be worried if.». She faltered, feeling something utterly cold forming in her chest as she noticed Dumbledore's eyes lose their spark, and her aunt's averted gaze.  
  
«I'm so sorry, child», Dumbledore said gravely. «Any trace of your existence would put both you and that person in grave danger. We.I couldn't allow that. I sent Severus to everyone you ever came in touch with, and.»  
  
Whatever else Dumbledore had said was deafened by a loud roar in Skylar's ears as understanding came to her. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Her whole life, her very existence and identity was gone, obliterated, as if she never had existed at all. That was the worst of it all. The nurse, followed by Minerva and Dumbledore, hurried to her side, afraid of the state of her mind her face revealed. It was not unknown for a person to lose mind when presented with too much dismay. And in one long second Skylar thought she was really going to lose it, felt her grip on sanity loosen as she panted for breath and relief that would not come. When that second which seemed long as an hour finally passed and pounding in her ears lessened she pushed them all aside with last remnants of strength.  
  
«Don't you touch me!» she cried harshly, a mad gleam in her eye. They obeyed.  
  
Skylar closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, and turned her face away from them. Opening them she set her gaze on the open window, seeing none of the beauty outside, feeling only numbness. Oh, how she wished to cry, to mourn her father, the life she thought she had, but tears wouldn't come. And after a moment she realised that the cold thing in her chest was her hearth, chained in ice.  
  
Days passed and she remained impassive and unmoving, eating when forced, more often not eating at all, eyes riveted on the horizon yet seeing only those terrible moments repeating over and over again. She wished death to come and yet unable to raise a hand at herself. Call it a cowardice, she always feared the unexpected and the unknown. And day after day her aunt, this stranger and the cause of her despair came and sat by her bed. At first she talked, opening her soul to Skylar, not asking forgiveness, only understanding. The words couldn't touch Skylar and in a way she felt a twisted sort of joy by seeing a little more of despair each passing day creeping into the eyes that were so like hers. So, after a while she finally stopped talking under Skylar's cold, accusing stare and just sat there, avoiding her eyes. A few days later she asked Skylar if she wanted her to leave. She took the ensuing silence as a yes. A few more days later she would just leave without a word. Always returning in the morning and leaving on mid-day.  
  
This day, however she left earlier. Skylar felt a pang of anger. «What is it, you got bored with the show?» she thought following the leaving figure of her aunt from the corner of her eye. Strangely, she didn't enjoy solicitude as much she thought she would. «And I want her to pay for what she did!» Casting occusing glances lost its appeal too, although her darts still hit the target well. One could not ease his pain by hurting others. And yet Skylar wanted revenge, wanted someone, anyone to pay back the debt, and no one was as good as the ones near you. After all, Minerva was to blame, the attack on her father and her was not a random one. Skylar hated her for that, was disgusted by her sheer presence and yet felt so alone every time Minerva left.  
  
She wanted to cry after her, call her back, say anything that would make her stay and every time she failed. Words couldn't force their way out through the wall Skylar'd built around herself. And every day she felt more alone, an inch farther from this world, an inch deeper in her self constructed grave. Buried alive.  
  
A/N,; Still as angsty as ever but things should change for the better soon, I hope. ( 


	4. The poison

_Chapter #4; **The Poison**_

Sitting behind his desk, almost invisible behind a towering mass of books and parchments, Severus Snape felt an icy chill run down his spine. It wasn't the chill of the dungeons that bothered him, although the dungeons cold and damp even in the middle of summer. He had gotten used to it long ago when he was given these chambers, as he got used to the cold, accusing stares that followed him everywhere he went. "Cold, sarcastic bastard," students would whisper behind his back. "An ex-Death Eater who got away," their parents would mutter under their breaths. "Greasy Severus!" his schoolmates' voices from the past resonated in his head. And, the worst voice of all, high-pitched and resembling a snake's hiss, would finally silence them all. "Kill!" it would whisper in his mind, "Kill in your Lord's name and I will give you what you desire the most. The Book, the ultimate knowledge!" His hand clenched in a tight fist, crunching and tearing apart a piece of parchment that lay on the desk in front of him. The icy chill of his spine turned into fiery hot rage and, in one swift movement, Snape shattered the tower of books and parchments and sent it flying across the room. 

_Not now!, he prayed silently, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, feeling a renewed tidal wave of guilt wash over him. In times such as this, he needed distraction, an assignment to occupy his mind, to keep such thoughts from creeping back into his mind. Preferably something dangerous, something no one was capable of solving, that could give him a few days of peace and a feeling that one more step, however small, had been made toward redemption. Of course, he would never admit to himself that it was his repentance that made him a spy. Dumbledore never had to ask; he offered his services freely, as a means of revenge, a revenge for the stolen years and innocence of his youth, and the sleepless nights of his present. _And now even that is denied me. I'm not a Death Eater, not even a spy, and certainly not that good potions master as thought(as good a potions master as I thought?) myself to be; what am I now? __

His eyes, almost with a will of their own, darted toward a small phial filled with yellowish liquid resting on his desk. Another surge of anger threatened to overwhelm him. Oh, how he would like to send that damned phial after the books and parchments, to crush it on the stone floor of the dungeons. He would, of course, do no such thing. It was, after all the only sample they had and it needed to be analysed and an antidote for it found. If only the research were as simple as the ease with which the poison killed. One small drop in your food or drink and you would be gone, just like that. At one wild moment, Snape considered doing the "bottoms up" with the phial. But that would be the easy way, wouldn't it? And the irony of it would please Voldemort, even if he didn't get the chance to kill him himself. Voldemort loved irony (_That's one thing we have in common). Ironic. What else would you call a poison stolen from the smuggles being used against its creators? __My Lord, you got it all wrong. Muggles are perfectly capable of exterminating themselves without your aid._

The yellowish liquid glinted benignly. Snape watched it with distaste. _Why am I complaining? This is what I always wanted: a real challenge at last. The distraction I so desperately yearned for._

Almost a month ago, a day after his outburst at Malfoy Manor, Dumbledore had summoned him. Snape had been trying to keep himself occupied, a technique he had adopted quickly after becoming a spy. Keep your mind busy and it won't wander to events you don't want to relive again. But nothing seemed to capture his mind for long; nothing seemed to be going as planned. The Dark Lord was getting stronger and stronger with every passing hour, and what did he do about that? Not only had he unmasked himself, he had made Voldemort even more cautious and thus shattered every other possible attempt at finding out his next move. And Minerva...since then he had tried his best to avoid her as much as possible. His own grief was hard to deal with; _seeing_ one of the two people whose eyes didn't contain contempt when dealing with him, with that haunted look in her eyes Severus thought only he could possess, was unbearable. _Well done, Severus, one of our very precious allies is crippled. Bring in the next one!_

Since the abduction of Minerva's niece, Voldemort had lain down again; not one attack had occurred on either Wizards or Muggles, at least, not one attack that could be connected with Voldemort. Their group of allies grew thinner and thinner as wizards and witches started to suspect Voldemort's return, and they needed every ally they could get. This calmness could only mean one thing, Snape knew all too well: a storm was coming. So it was with dark premonitions that Snape entered Dumbledore's office and perched himself on an armchair across from Dumbledore's desk.

"Albus." He nodded briefly in Dumbledore's direction. After a few moments of awkward silence, he added bitterly, "It is the event of previous night you wish to discuss, I presume," Dumbledore didn't respond, just reached behind his desk and put a small phial of yellowish liquid on it. Snape stared at it for a moment, then returned his gaze to Dumbledore, his eyes impassive.

"Well, are you going to tell me what this is all about or are you just going to continue staring at me?" he snapped losing his temper. 

"I was hoping you could tell _me what this is," Dumbledore responded gravely. "My sources at the Ministry tell me it was found in a Muggle restaurant, _the_ Muggle restaurant."_

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Snape started then his hand shot warningly in the air as Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond. "No! I think I understand perfectly. For once in your life try to be less transparent, Albus. Don't we have enough problems already without you inventing new ones just to occupy me and make me feel useful after that idiotic mistake I made?"

"It wasn't a mistake. And I know you're not prone to do idiotic things. Your skill as a spy wasn't the reason I hired you, Severus." Dumbledore's voice was quiet. He had known Snape for long time, had taught him at school and could guess what was going in his mind, but he knew better than to show him any sympathy; in Severus' case, that would only worsen things.

"No, you hired me because I'm excellent with children." Venom dripped from Snape's words. "If this is all," he continued, rising from his chair, "I assure you I am perfectly capable of finding an adequate pastime on my own."

"Will you please allow me to finish?"

"Fine," he said, grudgingly sitting back on the chair. "You could at least give me a Wolfsbane potion instead of a Muggle juice to play with. Neville bloody Longbottom would be capable of finding an antidote for it."

"Not for this one." Dumbledore clasped his hands before him. "Have you heard the case of food poisoning in a Muggle restaurant? No, I suppose you haven't. A few weeks ago, there was an incident in one of the most famous London restaurants. All guests who ordered food around nine o'clock died the instant they took the first bite. All guests along with some members of the British parliament – all died. Muggle detectives closed the restaurant and said it was a food poisoning that killed those people. Normally, this wouldn't draw my attention, were it not for the fact that a person contacted me and said it was not coincidental."

"A Death Eater attack? How do you know you can trust this informant?"

"Alastor has no reason whatsoever to lie."

"Alastor Someone-put-poison-in-my-food-Moody?!" Snape laughed mockingly. "Is this a joke? You trust _Moody? The man sees a deadly plot around every corner. Are you even sure that this is the real Moody this time? Why, the Ministry is sinking deeper and deeper in incompetence with every passing day! Who would say they started to meddle in Muggle affairs and, on top of that, they sent Moody to investigate."_

"Alastor may be considered a crack-pot by many people, Severus, but so am I," Dumbledore retorted, half amused and half irritated.

"Believe me, old man, I think I'll join their ranks," Snape blurted before he had time to reconsider. _Great, Severus! Just great! Go on; insult the very last person on this planet that can stand your presence. _

However, to Snape's shock, Dumbledore started laughing. "Ah, Severus, you have the queerest sense of humour I've ever seen!" Snape stared at the headmaster incredulously until Dumbledore finally sobered. "Alastor found few phials of this potion in possession of a young Death Eater he caught few days before the poisoning happened. He took it to the Ministry labs, but no one could say what kind of potion it is or even determine its components. A few days later, the poisoning happened in a restaurant not far away from place where Alastor caught its carrier. Alastor then contacted some of his informants in the Muggle community and learned that a Muggle firm called _Genesis, Inc_. that deals in some sort of Muggle potion research reported that their stores had been robbed. The whole affair was kept secret because the owner of Genesis_, Inc._ is the Muggle British military. The bad news is, a large portion of their funds was invested in the research and development of war poisons. The public does not know this information, of course."

"All this still isn't proof that the poisoning was ordered by Voldemort. I agree, he would use any means to achieve his goal, but a Muggle-made poison? Have you considered that the poisoning might be a terrorist attack not even remotely connected with the Wizarding world? Muggles have their own villains too, you know."

"You don't have to remind me of that. Alastor used Veritaserum on the Death Eater he caught with the poison, and he confirmed that this potion is indeed the very same one stolen from the stores of _Genesis, Inc_. Those people in the restaurant were test subjects for its potency!" Dumbledore said incredulously. Snape eyed the phial for a second, and then returned his attention to Headmaster. He looked almost as old as he actually was, withered and tired.

"So, the _experiment was a success, and you think Voldemort is going to use it to kill all Muggle leaders, throwing the Muggle community to its knees, and then move on to our unsuspecting Ministry. A brilliant plan; no one would connect a Muggle food poisoning with Death Eater activity, but it doesn't give any answer to how Voldemort knew of this potion's existence." Snape's eyebrows furrowed as Dumbledore looked past him, sorrow and worry emanating from his eyes._

"There's a saying 'when there is a possibility something might get bad, it surely will'. Unfortunately, in this case, it went from bad to worse. Voldemort wasn't searching for a Muggle poison. He was looking for a person, and found both."

"You're not trying to say-"

"Yes, Severus. Persephone McGonagall, or, if you prefer, Skylar Jonesey used to work for _Genesis, Inc."_

* * * * * * * * * * * * * 

So it was with great anticipation and growing apprehension Snape started to work on the potion. Soon it became clear to him that it was a fascinating thing in a dark way; Muggles had evolved greatly in potion making since the last time he had had an opportunity to hear about their scientific achievements. The sheer ease and effectiveness with which it killed was astonishing. It was a powerful weapon, and in wrong hands it could conquer the world. But, as time slipped by, his awe was replaced with irritation and cold fear. After a week, Snape was quite familiar with its killing power, but nothing else. All his attempts at finding the potion's compounds or a way to inactivate its power had failed. High temperature, a bezoar, the strongest universal antidotes-all were helpless against the potion's raw power.

The work on the potion became so time absorbing that Snape almost forgot about the next meeting scheduled a few weeks later upon Lupin's return from his mission among the werewolves.  

His attention snapped back to the present as he noticed two familiar shapes before him in the corridor. _Black and Lupin-inseparable again. What are they, lovers?_ His lips curled with distaste.

"Lupin!" he shouted, quickening his pace. "Why, hello! How did your meeting go? Have you, by any chance, managed to get Black bitten? Or did the werewolves reckon he was useless even to them?" Sirius turned, almost knocking Remus down, his eyes flashing with anger and ready to grab Snape's throat. He would have succeeded were it not for Remus' firm grip on his shoulder and hissed "Don't!" in his ear.

"Good puppy!" Snape swooped past them like a malevolent bat, his mood slightly improved, and entered Dumbledore's office. Slowly, the room began to fill up with wizards and witches; Severus noticed Minerva, pale and with dark circles under her eyes, but straight-backed and with her head held high, Dumbledore and, at last, Lupin and Black, red-faced but calm.

"Greetings to everyone," Dumbledore started when everyone took a seat. "We'll start with the newest tidings. Remus?"

Lupin took one deep breath. "As you all know, I was to contact werewolves in Britain and convince them to ally with us. I managed to find the largest werewolf community, but found only a few of the werewolves left there, those old or still undecided about their allegiance, and even those are inclined toward Voldemort. They say that the wizarding world has nothing to offer them except persecution and prejudices. The majority had already left to join Voldemort's army, led by a werewolf who calls himself the Wolflord." 

Being an excellent observer, Snape managed to catch a quick glance exchanged between Dumbledore and Minerva. _More secrets_. Snape wondered what other information that would in future prove vital those two were withholding from him. Sometimes he envied them for their uncanny way of understanding what the other was thinking without words. In these things, they were like old lovers, capable of finishing sentences the other one started. He doubted that they had ever been lovers, and yet between them was something bigger than friendship. It was a bond Snape envied and coveted. Deeply absorbed in his thoughts, he almost missed Minerva's barely audible words, filled with unusual hatred and something else...was she weighing her words?

"So, Galadan has returned." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

"I think I'll owl Viv to come here," Dumbledore sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose. "With news this bad, we need any help we can get."

"Who's Viv?" asked Snape.

"You do realise, Albus, that we could deal with it if only you would allow me—" Minerva started, not even noticing Snape's question. The three of them were seated in Dumbledore's office after the meeting was over.

"No!" Dumbledore interrupted. 

"But, it's a weapon they don't expect. We could—"

"No! It is _we who don't know what to expect from it. It is too wild, too unpredictable and too __dangerous. I forbid you, Minerva, not until we are desperate."_

"We _are desperate. Galadan and Voldemort alone are formidable opponents, as allies..." Minerva stopped, seeing Albus shaking his head wearily. _He looks almost as old as he is._ "Promise me one thing: when our situation reaches the point which is in your judgement desperate, you'll allow me to use the Warstone."_

"If we ever reach that point, which I sincerely hope we won't, Minerva, I won't stop you. But please, use the time before that to reconsider. The Warstone might not solve anything. It could bring even more damage to us than to our opponents." Minerva nodded. 

Uncomfortable silence followed. Dumbledore and Minerva stared into nowhere, deeply absorbed in their thoughts. _Another piece of my inheritance goes to waste,_ Minerva thought. _Albus will never give his consent. Not after the Call in me had diminished. It is true; we don't know how it will react, or even if it will respond to a person who defied its call. But it must obey me! It must, even if there is a price to pay_

A sudden movement at the edge of her vision startled her. Snape had obviously lost his temper over not being included in this matter.

"Who is Viv? Who is Galadan? And what the hell is the Warstone?" he rose angrily from his chair. "What's the point of inviting me to a counsel if you two continue daydreaming and leave me in the dark. I _do_ have other important business that needs my attention, thank you for asking." Snape headed towards the door and grabbed the handle. "Well?"__

"Severus, please sit down," Dumbledore finally said in a hoarse voice. "Minerva?"

Minerva waited until Snape was seated. _There are so many things he doesn't know. And for so many of them I hoped there would never be a need for him to know. For anyone to know. _

"Galadan the Wolflord is the first werewolf. The number one, old almost as the world itself, from whom all others descended, so to speak. The Moon doesn't rule him; he can change his shape when he wishes. He holds a power to summon wolves and werewolves and even force them to obey him. I don't need to say that the majority follow him willingly, for there is a legend that he is one of the Andain – half Gods of the ancient world of Tuatha de Dannan. Some even say he is the son of the Horned One."

"Tuatha de....but that would mean he is---" Snape interrupted, incredulity in his voice.

"Immortal. Yes, although he can be killed by a silver blade like any other werewolf." 

"I thought that the Tuatha were only a myth."

"No, the people of the Goddess Danu or Tuatha de Dannan were the first wizards who walked the face of the earth although their magic was quite different from ours," Dumbledore continued. "Their magic is known as the Bloodmagic or Bloodlore, for they didn't use wands to channel the power in the wizard himself but used the power of the Earth and life itself channelled through a source – a human source. When the first wizards of our kind emerged, they tried to stop Tuatha from using the Bloodmagic for, it seemed to them, that their magic was of a wild and unnatural kind. The Wizards feared the Tuatha and persecuted them in the same way Muggles persecuted the wizards in later years. The Tuatha or the Fairy folk, as they were also called, were peaceful tribes so they retreated into the woods and, after a time, vanished. Some say they went underground, some say that they moved to a world behind the mists. What is known for sure is, before their departure, they forged a ring with the Warstone in it- a talisman that will enable the Tuatha who decided to stay, or their descendants, to defend themselves. The Warstone that will enable the wielder of their blood to call the dark Bloodmagic, the side of the Bloodlore Tuatha never meddled in." 

"And the same Warstone has been my family inheritance, given from mother to daughter for more than a thousand years," said Minerva. "One of the Tuatha who decided to stay was my ancestor, and inheritance in the Tuatha tradition goes through mother's line. And here I'm not talking only of inheriting the ring but also of inheriting a power to wield it if one chooses to accept its call. Deny it, and it can be summoned only by a sacrifice of the caller."

"What sacrifice?"

"That we don't know."

"Viv is an expert on the subject of the ancient world and its magic, but even she doesn't know exactly. Or at least she didn't when I last saw her," Dumbledore said. "Yet I hope she might help us finding an alternative way of fighting both Voldemort and Galadan. And—" He stopped awkwardly.

Minerva closed her eyes. _Oh my friend, how I wish I could've spared you from this._

"She is also my wife and an ex-Death Eater."

* * * * * * * * * * 


End file.
